


Laurel wreath

by jenna_thorn



Category: Olympics RPF
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-18
Updated: 2004-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn





	Laurel wreath

The silver circle dangles from its ribbon, spinning slowly, a lazy pirouette, diminishing in reverses. The surface of the medal is matte, flat. It should be shiny, he thinks, should sparkle like the ridiculous Aztec gold in the pirate movie, the wet sheen of sweat or tears. Glisten like scar tissue.

But the olive leaves are matte, too, and slightly wilted now. He lets the pad of his thumb rest along the vein, nestled in the hollow, a motionless caress.

The medal will go in a case back home, proud parents, history books, record keeping. When this week, this experience, is over, he'll move on to new challenges. He's not ready to think about the next Olympics, not willing to let himself hear his knee, his hip, the pull across his shoulders on bad days. But the medal will be there, on display, his name forever in black and white -- headlines and paragraphs. Public.

The wreath is his, not history, not resume; the television cameras will not see it again.

The team touches, clapping hands, pats, always conscious of the cameras, always in game face. There is no way to turn away, to rub an aching elbow, pull at a tight ankle, without the gleaming mirror of a camera lens, the glitter of flash bulbs. 

He throws his arm over his brother's shoulders, letting a fingertip drop to the powder dusted curve below the bicep, that hollow, just there. A motionless caress.


End file.
